


The Well-Intentioned Heavy Heart

by Nebbles



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Gen, death mention, ff6 hit me with all those good characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: While the burden of the crown was a heavy one, Edgar didn’t need to crush himself under it.





	The Well-Intentioned Heavy Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, you finish a game and really like it.
> 
> Sometimes, you finish a game and write a 5k word fic for it in the following few days after finishing it.

In an peculiar sort of way, Edgar had grown used to the crimson skies. They hung over Figaro for well over a year, as well as the rest of the world. Haunting as they were, Edgar had been happy enough to be alive to see them. It was an indicator he’d been lucky enough to survive, to find his friends and Sabin, and to eventually end Kefka’s reign.

Granted, ending Kefka’s life wasn’t going to magically fix the world. Without him to poison the earth, rebuilding was possible. Life would be allowed to progress. The damages were still rather large, and came in numbers, and would take more than a few reparation funds to fix. Digging into Figaro’s treasury was no issue for him; he’d gladly empty the coffers to see the world breathe again. While most of the group had split their ways, Edgar knew everyone was doing their part to undo Kefka’s actions. 

Terra returned to Mobliz, Mog and Umaro had returned to the caves of Narshe, Cyan went to repair what was left of Doma. Setzer continued to travel the world. Gau returned to the Veldt, Rem and Strago went back to Thamasa… and he was rather unsure where Gogo had gone off to. Celes and Locke accepted his offer to stay under his wing, as the two really had no definitive home to return to. Of course, Sabin finally came home and stayed. 

Shadow’s whereabouts remained a mystery, however. It’d been about a month, and no word of his survival had reached them. When he wasn’t on the Falcon, Edgar presumed Shadow slipped off somewhere on his own. Doubts began to eat at him, however, and he sent off a small search party to gain information. He didn’t want to believe Shadow had passed from this world, and yet, what other options were there? 

Stifling a yawn, Edgar ran a hand through his hair, eyes focusing on nothing in particular. Documents laid before him - all on what still had to be done in the world, and the finances he was allotting to those in need. Sure, his advisors were wary of such excess spending, but it was ridiculous to keep such money to himself. People needed help. Generosity wasn’t a thing to be ashamed of, he said, and Sabin backed up him every time. 

It was still hard to tell whether it was morning or night; the sky was still a deep shade of red and thick clouds often darkened it. Outside looked much less awful, and while things were clearing up, it still very much looked like flames were still consuming the world. Apocalypse was rather hard to undo, after all. 

To say he was exhausted would be an understatement. Managing the world wasn’t an easy task, and while Edgar didn’t have to dedicate himself to it, he almost felt like he was obliged to fix it. He wasn’t at fault for what happened. Perhaps part of the guilt came from his failure to stop Kefka in the first place, before the world was split into pieces. Perhaps a part of him regretted letting Sabin run away from home for so long. If he could now be the perfect king, and the perfect brother, it would ease some of the heaviness in his heart.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Edgar tried to make himself look presentable. Lack of sleep didn’t look too good on most people, he figured, dashing as he may be.

“My king,” a messenger bowed his head, “a letter from Strago in Thamasa has just arrived. I assume you’d like to read it?”

“Oh, of course! I’ve been curious as to how everyone’s coming along, anyway.” Edgar had sent out letters of his own to everyone, wishing them well and to write back soon - or perhaps even visit Figaro, had they the time. 

The messenger handed him the letter, bowed once more, and saw himself out. 

A light smile made its way to Edgar’s face as he opened the letter, and shortly the smile faded as his blood ran cold as he read its contents.

_Dear Edgar,_

_I’ve sent the same copies of this letter to the others, so everyone else should know. I’d like you to tell Sabin, Locke and Celes once you’ve processed this._

_Interceptor came back to Thamasa, you see, but he was alone. Shadow wasn’t anywhere in sight, and the dog had a terribly sad look in his eyes. That told me all I needed to know. I felt it once we left Kefka’s Tower, and I wanted to be wrong… but I fear my assumptions were correct. Shadow didn’t join us on the ship, and he hasn’t been spotted anywhere since then._

_I’m terribly sorry to report Shadow’s not of this realm anymore. Interceptor coming back alone told me as much. Perhaps when we all have the time, we’ll gather together and honor his memory._

_I hope you’re doing well._

_-Strago_

Death was never easy to grasp for Edgar. The loss of his parents still pained him to this day, and the screams of the soldiers that died in Kefka’s attack on Figaro haunted his nightmares. He was hoping to not tangle with the subject for many years. Nor did he want it to hit so, so close to his heart. While Shadow had always distanced himself from everyone, he still considered them all friends. He had joined them at the final battle and helped bring an end to Kefka. While Edgar noticed he was absent at the ship, he didn’t want that indicate it was at the cost of Shadow’s life.

Why did Shadow stay behind, he wondered? What compelled him to sentence his own death, without uttering a word of it to anyone? It was silly to assume Shadow trusted them all so deeply, considering the man kept to himself. He wasn’t a man of many words, but… wasn’t he their friend? Wouldn’t he want to help them rebuild the world?

It didn’t make sense. No matter how many angles Edgar approached it from, he couldn’t find any answers. He couldn’t find the power to accept Shadow’s death, and he was less sure the others would find it any easier. He wasn’t even sure how to break the news; everyone was so hopeful and happy for the future. Knowing a friend was gone… did he really want to be the one to ruin it?

He gave a forlorn sigh, placing the letter on his desk over the already large pile of papers. He needed time to think. Too many things were buzzing about in his mind, and no matter how much he wanted to rest, that wasn’t in his foreseeable future. 

Edgar turned away from his desk, eyes cast towards the red skies as his mind desperately tried to think of a way to break the news to Sabin.

\---

He hadn’t seen Edgar all day, which was the first red flag for Sabin. Even when he was logged under piles of work, Edgar managed to always make some time to say hello. As weeks went by, Sabin had noticed a few things. Some bags under his brother’s eyes, his coloring was off, and the air around him changed. Sabin knew there was more than Figaro’s reconstruction on his mind. It was concerning he didn’t know what, however. One thing they vowed was to be more honest with each other, and yet there was something Edgar was tight-lipped about.

Increasing his worry, Sabin mulled on the fact how unwell Edgar was looking. Edgar was always so concerned about his looks -- keeping up appearances for the ladies, he called it -- and throwing himself into disarray didn’t make sense. Why would Edgar forego his health? Didn’t he realize this was going to worry everyone, especially him? Wouldn’t Edgar realize he was beginning to look like dad?

Wouldn’t Edgar realized that scared him more than anything? 

Sabin knew waiting around for answers would take much too long, and Edgar had priority over everything else. The world could wait, Sabin told himself. If Edgar’s health was on the line, surely everyone would understand. They could handle things in his stead. Edgar was the king of Figaro, not the entire world - he didn’t need to burden himself with such a duty. While the burden of the crown was a heavy one, Edgar didn’t need to crush himself under it.

The stride to Edgar’s office was filled with confidence, yet something replaced that feeling when he raised his fist to knock on the door. Was it fear? Why was he suddenly hesitating? He was already aware Edgar wasn’t doing well. Seeing him look ill wasn’t new, but the idea still made Sabin’s stomach turn.  
All the more reason to force Edgar to get some rest, he figured. He wasn’t going to end up like Dad. No matter what happened, Sabin thought as he knocked on the door, Edgar was going to be okay.

The harsh knocks on the door snapped Edgar out of his stupor, and yet he didn’t have the will to send them away. He still very much wanted solitude, Strago’s words still encasing his thoughts. However, Edgar figured denying anyone to see him would further increase people’s worries. He already had physicians telling him he needed to step back from his work and rest. Their visits had grown more frequent this past week, and he figured that was due to him fainting in the engine room earlier. He insisted upon doing some repairs himself, despite running on no sleep. 

He woke up some time later with an attendant shaking him back into consciousness. He was ordered to get checked out, and while not refusing that, he begged for not a word of it to be whispered to Sabin. He just didn’t want to worry him. Despite the questioning looks he was given, he insisted it was for the better. 

“...It’s open.” Edgar sighed, his gaze still focused on the sky before him. 

Sabin quietly opened the door, shutting it behind him. Upon noticing the growing stack of papers, and his brother’s gaze elsewhere, Sabin thought back to the physician he had wormed information out of. 

“I haven’t seen you around all day. Usually by now, you stop by and see how I’m doing.” Sabin figured it’d be best to ease into this topic. 

“Is it that time already?” Edgar gave a weak laugh, turning to face his brother. “I’m sorry. I must have got caught up in my work.”

Lie number one, Sabin thought. “You always made time before, though. I feel like I’ve seen you around less.”

“Is that so? I wasn’t aware you felt that way. If that’s the case, I don’t mind pushing back some work to catch up with you.” Another thing to lose sleep over, it seemed. He wasn’t even aware how Sabin was feeling.

“You could afford to lay off the work in general, you know. I know there’s a lot to do, but everyone actually misses being able to see you for more than an hour.” Start off easy. He was going to pull Edgar away from that damned desk one way or another. 

“...There’s a lot to be done, Sabin. You know that. I… I can’t afford to let our people down,” Edgar folded his hands, placing his chin on them, “that just isn’t something I can do.”

“Letting yourself relax isn’t going to disappoint anyone.” Sabin took a few steps closer, before noticing the letter on his desk. He’d seen the messenger head towards Edgar’s room earlier, and hadn’t thought much of it. Now, he wondered if this letter was a part of something serious. “What’s that on your desk?”

He saw Edgar wince slightly, which caused Sabin’s gut to twist. Wordlessly, Edgar reached for the letter on his desk and handed it to him. Upon taking it, Sabin noticed how badly his hand was shaking. Those weren’t nerves -- that was a sign of his body telling him he needed to rest. He needed to stop.

“Dammit…” Sabin kept repeating the word over and over, wishing the contents of the letter were a lie. Sabin never took loss particularly well. Perhaps it was a lasting effect from losing their father at a fairly young age. He’d seen more than enough death thanks to Kefka’s actions, and had hoped it would never reach his friends. It was a miracle they all came out unscathed and alive, and were able to change the world for the better.

Why did that have to change? What compelled Shadow to not join them on the ship? Did he stay on the tower and collapsed with it? Of course Shadow wouldn't tell them he wasn't coming back. No one would have let him do it.

Shadow wanted to die, and that thought knocked the air out of Sabin’s lungs. 

“...if I had known, I would've tried to save him. I failed, and I have to make up for that.” Edgar looked down at his desk. “There's been too much loss already. I want to prevent more of it.”

“Edgar, it's… this isn't your fault. Please don't put more stress on yourself.” Things were beginning to make sense. Responsibility was always something Edgar carried, even as a kid. He took responsibility for the throne, for Figaro, for Sabin. “I’m hurt that he's dead, too, but… you can't take the blame.”

“Figaro is the only kingdom that's left standing. Cyan… I couldn't ask for his help after all of Doma fell like that. As far as I'm concerned, I must help. I need to ease the pain of everyone.” Edgar kept his gaze focused on his desk, knowing that Sabin wouldn't buy this line of reasoning. Arguing over the semantics of leadership and politics were awfully hollow to one that fled the crown. 

“I'm concerned for you, Edgar. This shouldn't come at the risk of your health,” Sabin saw Edgar wince again, “and I know you aren't taking care of yourself. I know you fainted in the engine room.”

Edgar gave no reply.

“After having one of the physicians tell me… the fact you were trying to keep it a secret… what the hell, Edgar? Why wouldn't you tell me?” Sabin kept his tone even, no matter how difficult it felt to temper his emotions. “I have every right to know if your health is failing.”

“I'm fine, Sabin. I just didn't want to worry you.” Edgar knew he couldn't dismiss this with a simple hand wave. He'd been ducking around the issue of his health for the past few weeks, and tried to hide it from everyone else. If he truly needed to stop, he would. But he was fine.

“Did you not hear me just now? You fainted earlier! How, in any world, are you okay?!” Sabin sat across from him, “you tried to hide it from me!”

“Sabin, you have your own things to worry about. I'm going to be fine.” That'd be more believable if his head didn't feel waterlogged, his body attached to lead weights and chained to the ground. 

“I don't believe you. When's the last time you ate?” It was Sabin's turn to fold his hands. 

When was his last proper meal? He'd picked at food here and there, enough to sustain himself, but hadn't sat down for a full meal in quite a while. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing it was getting harder to lie. Sabin's eyes were laser focused on him, waiting for an answer.

“...I've been eating. I promise you that.” That wasn't a complete lie, at the very least. It was hard to tell the days apart, and events in his head were muddled. He wanted to say he ate yesterday, but honestly, he just couldn't remember.

“Okay. But you still look like you've lost weight. You don't look well in the slightest.” Sabin was glad he wasn't completely starving himself.

“Do I really look so unwell?” It wasn't a new concept for him to hear. He'd heard it from physicians, from attendants, even Locke and Celes had made a few comments. He brushed it off with a joke, yet the words coming from Sabin meant something more.

Sabin didn't want to say this, but the thought had been gnawing at his mind for quite awhile. He kept his gaze and words steady. “...you're beginning to look like dad before he died.”

Oh. Edgar looked up at his brother, the fear evident in his eyes. The hurt, the memories of his death still fresh, as if it had happened only yesterday. The longing for another life not to be lost reached him, and guilt filled his heart as he realized how scared Sabin truly was.

“You need to rest. Please. You can't help anyone if you're hurting your own body.” The sigh that exited his mouth was so, so sad. “The people will understand. They'd be so sad to see their king in poor health.”

“...I…” Edgar couldn't think of what else to say.

“Just take a break, Edgar.” Sabin outstretched his hand. “Get some rest, have a proper meal…”

He knew Sabin was right. His mind was telling to cast aside his pride, accept the hand, and finally let himself rest. He knew this to be true, and yet another part of his mind told him work still had to be done. He had to prevent future Shadows - others leaving themselves for dead in the wastes of the world. It was his burden, and he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was due to losing Figaro for a year. The shame still sat with him, and he just wanted that feeling to vanish.

Yet, Sabin’s worries were valid. The idea of leaving Sabin alone, under a crown he never wanted, was a fate too cruel. What a poor brother Edgar would be. Would Sabin ever forgive him if that happened? Would he be reviled for leaving Figaro in his hands, or reviled for dying and leaving Sabin alone?

With a forlorn expression, Edgar pulled himself out of his chair. He couldn’t do that to Sabin. Leaving him alone in the world… he just couldn’t. The world spun under him, and Edgar felt himself stumble and fall forward, unable to keep his balance. 

“E-Edgar?!” Sabin rushed over, catching Edgar before he hit the ground. “You’re not actually sick, right?”

“I just… lost my balance…” He tried to focus on anything in the room, something stationary, and failed. The lead from his body had vanished, and now he felt light as a feather. If Sabin hadn’t come to talk to him, and help him back to his room, he might have fainted yet again.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” Now that Sabin was closer, he could really see the exhaustion on his brother’s face. As he had seen before, the usual color in his skin had faded, accompanied by heavy bags under his eyes. He still looked like Edgar, but what made him Edgar wasn’t there anymore.

The walk to his bedroom felt eternal. Every step was agonizing, and his head pounded with each one. His body was lashing out at him, reprimanding him for the weeks of neglect and poor care. Since he hadn’t left his office in the past few days, it was no wonder a once simple endeavor felt like such a journey. 

Sabin sat him down, and Edgar felt so happy to sink into the mattress. He could feel the sigh of relief his body gave as laid back, finally able to rest.

“I know you need sleep, but you also still need more food in your system. Let me get you something before you get some rest, okay?” Sabin wasn’t used to the role of caretaker. It had always been the other way around, and even when traversing the world, Edgar or Terra had provided the care for everyone. Perhaps it had always been in Edgar’s nature to be so self-sacrificial; it had only reached such drastic measures because the world called for it.

“You’re going to cook? I thought you wanted me to get better, not worse.” Edgar gave a laugh, and was met by an unamused stare. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sure I’ll love whatever you get me.”

While his cooking skills were nothing to brag about, Sabin could at least whip together something decent for him to eat. As long as Edgar ate it in full, and it helped him get better, Sabin didn’t care whatever the dish was. He wanted to see life, to see happiness in his brother’s eyes again. 

He couldn’t save dad. At the very least, he could save Edgar. Sabin wondered if their parents were watching from above at times. Did they see the two save the world? Did they see them overcome insurmountable odds, despite it all? And if they were watching now, what would they say about Edgar? He wondered if they would be able to see the signs earlier -- if they could keep Edgar from falling into the state he was in. Perhaps they would, perhaps they wouldn’t.

He had no idea what their mom was like. He knew dad would care, but it hurt to think about him at the moment. The idea of burying Edgar next to their parents entered his mind, and Sabin expelled the thought before it could take root. He focused on the dish in front of him instead. Simple, but sustainable enough, and wouldn’t be harsh on the stomach of someone who hadn’t been eating much lately. 

It’d take time, but Edgar would be alright.

\-----

It was a struggle to keep himself conscious, but Edgar refused to let sleep claim him before Sabin returned. He promised he’d eat, he promised he’d rest. As he waited for Sabin, his words about their dad sat in his mind.

He saw his dad in his final hours. Pale and gaunt, barely clinging to life… is that how he looked? Hardly a fitting image for a king. The king was supposed to be the image of his kingdom, the paragon of leadership and safety. If the king were to look in such dire straits, how would that reflect on Figaro? 

Even worse, he had managed to worry Sabin. Ironic, considering he was trying to avoid doing so in the first place. He knew he should’ve spoken to him earlier. Yet, all he wanted to do was uphold the image of the perfect king. The king who had everything in order, who was undoing the scars of the world, who would lead everyone into an era of prosperity. 

Was he failing? He wanted to believe his efforts were fueling reconstruction, and that things were beginning to improve. The world was recovering. It had to be.

He was becoming a victim to his own thoughts. Guilt didn’t often consume him, and now with Shadow’s death still lingering over his head, he felt more awful than ever. 

Edgar sighed, laying his shoes and armor at his bedside. It felt good to let some weight off his shoulders, in some sense. Time felt so slow until footsteps finally caught his ears as Sabin entered with a tray in hand, water and a plate of food placed on it. 

“I’ll give you credit,” Edgar remarked as Sabin placed the food in front of him, “this actually looks wonderful.”

“Hey, I know how to cook. I’m no fancy castle chef, but I can handle myself. Now eat.” Sabin sat at the end of his bed.

He ate slowly, savoring each bite. It was a comforting notion, having Sabin put everything aside to care for him. Granted, he would’ve done the same. There was still a side of him that was so happy Sabin finally came home, and was going to stay. That alone made him much happier.

After finishing his plate and setting it to the side, Edgar cleared his throat and looked over at Sabin. “...I’m not going to die, you know.” 

“I… I never said you were going to.” Sabin wrung his hands awkwardly, looking down at the bed. 

“You told me I looked like dad. You don’t think I remember how I looked before he died? I’m never going to forget that image, Sabin.” Edgar continued. “I was well aware of how unwell I felt… I just ignored it. But if I honestly thought my life was in danger, I would’ve stopped. I promise you that.”

“But why? You were putting yourself at risk! You weren’t eating right, you’ve barely been sleeping… I know there’s a lot to do to fix what Kefka did, but that is not worth all of this.” Sabin sounded like a kid again, and it stabbed at Edgar’s heart.

“I can’t let people down, Sabin. I couldn’t protect our people when Kefka set Figaro ablaze. And to think of all the lives that were lost… and with Shadow’s death, I just can’t help to think that I might’ve been able to help everyone.” And yet, he’d somehow managed to let Sabin down. 

“Edgar, that wasn’t your fault. Despite all the losses we’ve faced, you’ve still managed to pull through. You got Figaro back. Hell, the people were so happy to see you back! You saved a lot of people, Edgar.” Sabin looked up at him. “You’re an amazing king.”

“Our people still suffered for a year. I had to sneak back into the country guised as a thief. The mighty king of Figaro, sinking so low…” He didn’t feel as amazing as Sabin was lauding him as. “I felt so helpless.” 

“Even if you did, you managed to save it. And then the world, and now you’re helping so many people. That’s honorable, but you also need to know when to rest. The world’s going to be fine. You could afford a few days off.” Sabin never had to give such an emotional speech before, and he was hoping he was decent enough. All he wanted to do was reassure Edgar he was a wonderful king, and a wonderful brother.

Edgar fell silent, and Sabin decided to continue.

“I can’t lose you, Edgar… you’re all I have in this world. I… If you really died, I suppose I could rule. I never wanted to, but in your honor… I would. I’d make Figaro a wonderful nation.” Sabin didn’t really know about leadership, but he supposed what he learned from watching Edgar would suffice.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Edgar looked at him in shock. “You left Figaro so you could chase your own path.”

“I know. But I came back. Even if it’s not as a ruler, I’m still here. I’d learn how to rule, I guess…” Sabin leaned back a bit, looking up at the ceiling with a sad smile. “I wouldn’t hold a candle to you, though.”

“Sabin…” Edgar couldn’t imagine the heartache that would bring. He pictured Sabin in an empty throne room, donning his armor, a thumb tracing over the fated coin. Hollow eyes would scan the halls, looking for someone. They’d hope for the figure of a long-lost brother to appear, and yet, he would never come home.

“It’d hurt. And I would miss you. I’d do it for you, though.” Sabin looked back over at him. “I love you more than anything, Edgar. That’s why I’m so scared.”

Perhaps it was the stress getting to him. Perhaps it was how absolutely tired he was. For the first time in years, tears began to prickle at his eyes. He couldn’t ask Sabin to possibly throw his freedom away for a life he didn’t want. That wasn’t fair of him. Here he was, so willing to take the crown, in the case the worst happened and his health failed him. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let Sabin get crushed under the burden he was trying so hard to stand under.

“...Edgar?” Sabin moved closer, eyes wide as he saw tears fall down his brother’s face. “Geez, I… I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

“Forgive your brother for shedding a few tears, Sabin.” Edgar wiped at his face, managing a smile. “I’m just surprised you’d do such a thing for me.”

“Of course I would. Even when you’re recovering, I’ll do everything I can to help. Because you are going to take a break, right?” Sabin placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“How can I not? I can’t leave you alone, can I?” Edgar figured it’d be best to let himself cry. It was good to get all of the negative, pent-up emotions out. “You’re right, however. I ignored my health. I need to take care of myself.”

He finally saw a warm smile on Sabin’s face, and was enveloped in a tight hug. “I’ll help you recover however I can. I’ll get you as many days off as possible, and make sure you get all the food and sleep you need. You’ll be back to your old self before you know it.”

“I know I will. You’ll be helping me.” Edgar returned the hug with all the strength he could muster. “Thank you, Sabin. I couldn’t ask for a better friend, or a better brother.”

“Aw, come on. You’re going to make me cry next.” Sabin patted his back gently. “You really should sleep, though. I’ll make sure one of the attendants will be there when you get up.”

They broke the hug, and Edgar leaned back on the pillows, pulling the covers over himself as Sabin wished him a very full night’s rest. Once he left the bedroom, Edgar turned over and opened the drawer on his nightstand. There were a few things in there -- some personal effects, a few things from his father, letters from Terra and the others. He assumed Strago’s letter would find its way there eventually, to honor Shadow’s memory. He dug around through all the papers until his fingers hit a familiar object. He fished it out, quietly closing the door before inspecting what he’d been looking for. 

He slipped the fated coin between his fingers, clutching it close as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
